The Conspiracy
by Aizawa Minami
Summary: Kirika struggles to maintain her identity and the prophecy of Noir, she encounters many twists and turns of her past and the present, questioning her own existence and ultimately her life in the Manor. Translated from Hungarian version
1. Chapter 1

"Mama Althena," Said a young girl's voice, she sounded very much like a child—approximately at the age of five years old, with shoulder-length black hair, and slightly plumped body. Along with a small height at three feet and five inches. She holds her mother's hand, and looked at the elder woman who stood beside her.

"Are we going to find me a friend?" She asked, full of hopeful naïve and innocent questions that could possibly escape from her mind and enter her mouth; this 'subject' has been going on for over four months now. Chloe seems to be the only child in the manor of Andorra, yet there were other children like her—but were much, much older; those that were on the onset of puberty and adolescence and had much more responsibility to carry for their families in a small village in Andorra.

This was something that Chloe couldn't comprehend of why, mainly because it was something she could not understand as clearly at a young age; when her mind is still learning different aspects from other people. It_ also_ could be that her mind is still developing for many different things that may come to her as she get's a little older.

After a short pause, the surrogate parent answered, "Soon, my dear Chloe… _very _soon… just be patient."

The little girl stared at her guardian with her head cocked sideways in confusion; she was an eager, enthusiastic child about everything, yet she did not know what the fuss is about. However, she did not say anything else to objectify her guardian and stood obediently with a large grin on her face.

"Okay, mama."

It has been three hours since both of them stood outside of the manor, and Chloe became very tired of waiting for the new child to come. What she did was to glance Althena's way and made a small complaint that her eyes were becoming droopy and that her feet hurt from standing too much without movement. Nevertheless, Althena responded to her whining by picking her up and asked if she wants her nap, Chloe just smiles and wraps her arms around her neck; nodding briefly to the pleasantry of dreams and napping.

Althena walked to Chloe's dormitory, which was surrounded by violet wallpaper and luxurious items, such as toys, flowers, and a large, queen-sized bed with pink pillows and pale-blue sheets, her bedroom seems pleasant to the eye. By then, she tucked her in and gave her a kiss, murmuring words of "Have sweet and pleasant dreams, my Chloe." Before closing the curtains for her daughter's privacy and lowering the lamp oil, just dim enough so that when she wakes up, she doesn't need to be afraid of the dark.

She looks at the young toddler one last time before closing the door and heading towards her office to where she could write the next following letter to the soldats for the inconfirmacy of the child's arrival, that the child did not arrive at the exact date as promised…

However, much to her surprise… there was a knock at her door. She pondered a moment to see who it might be, since no-one ever comes to the manor unless it is urgent news. Instead of opening the door, she called out who is there—the knocking stopped suddenly. Althena cocked her eyebrow and looked at the eyepiece the door required; no-one was there.

_That's odd… _She thought to herself. _I could have sworn there was someone knocking… _She shrugged her shoulders after having a doubtful thought. _Maybe not… I must be imagining things…_

_Knock Knock _

Althena stood by the doorway, undetermined whether to answer the door or not, unsure of it is either an intruder, enemy, ally, or closest friend, she stiffened; frozen with fear. She eyed on the kitchen knife that sat on the table, knowing what to do if the person tries an attack towards her. The older woman held a concerned expression; knowing of what the consequences may come if she kills a person. The knocking intensifies, she moved closer to the door, with the knife at her left hand and the knob at the right hand.

With one more forceful knock, she violently swung the door open, and out came a person—a small child, covered in complete rags saturated with crimson-colored blood and blackened dirt, its face was beaten badly; there were cuts and bruises—this child looks to be _twice _as Chloe's age. Althena stared at the child in complete shock; her mouth hung open as if she has never seen anything more horrific as a child being abused as she was.

The child had short, black hair at a boy's length—it never grew long—as she was determined, the child could be a male one, its eyes were dark brown and that the child panted and breathed painfully; she could see that the child is holding its lower stomach—making quivered moans that sounded painful.

"Ohh…" It said, holding the door by its left hand to keep its balance, while using its right hand to keep pressure on the knife wound. The child limped towards the manor's kitchen, making stifled cries while tumbling over a chair it tried to sit on, when it resulted as complete failure by collapsing on the floor instead.

Althena dropped her knife and immediately closed the door, for that the fear of other people knowing would be disasterous and stressful. She wore a face of apprehension as she tried to help the squirming and critically injured child on the floor; bending down on one knee and lifting its head on her lap, stroking its sticky, black hair; trying her best to comfort the child.

"It is okay… it is okay…"

The child however, let out a loud wail merging from its mouth, crying out, "Mama! They killed my mama! They killed my papa, too! They hurted me very bad! _It huuurrrtttsss!_" It screamed, its voice sounded raspy and sore—the child screamed so much until its voice lost and gave out—heaving out a few more cries from there.

"Mama… m-mama…!"

Althena did not know what to do in this vulnerable situation; she tried to tell the child it was going to be okay; stroking and kissing its face when it did not have the desire to want any—but needed it very badly from the injuries and trauma it had experienced…

"Althena…? What happened?" A blonde-silvery haired nun came into the room at the very last moment, witnessing of what was there between the beatened child and Althena, cupping her hand in her mouth with shock. "Oh my God! Althena! What happened?!" She cried rushing over to her aid, looking at her and the child. "I-I do not know! It was all very sudden! The child came and I just—!"

"No!" Borne snapped, placing her hand on the child's forehead, flashing Althena an angered expression, "This child is hurt, it needs to be helped! Now!" Althena understood the order given, and rushed over to the quarters of where Marenne slept.

"Marenne! Marenne!" She called out, banging on the woodened door with urgency, Marenne came out a few seconds later. "What is it, Mistress Althena? Did something happened?"

"Yes!" She replied, grasping her shoulders, "There is a injured child in the kitchen, you have to help me!" Marenne's eyes expanded with overall surprise of the news, "Is there?!"

"Yes, please!"

Quickly, Marenne donned her robe and went after Althena to see her prediction—and there it was true; with the child lying on the floor in dirty, blood-stained clothes, moaning slightly on Borne's clothes.

"Althena! Is that—?!"

"Don't just stand there, help me!" Growled Borne as she picked up the child's top weakened state in her arms, without any hesitation, Marenne quickly complied by grabbing and carrying the child's lower half—soon, both of them rushed to aid the child's poor health—leaving Althena alone, shocked and loss at words.


	2. Chapter 2

HA HA HA HA! I thought I left this story, huh? Well, do not worry, I'm sure, maybe longer. Sorry, there is no Chloe. ^ ^;

She would appear in the next chapter or so.  
This section was inspired by listening to Sophie B Hawkins "Bare The Weight of Me", which corresponds to the story of this chapter and other chapters do.  
Have fun!

* * *

It has been 10 hours since the child's arrival—Chloe is still asleep, thank God that she hasn't stirred in her sleep to witness anything that had happened. Althena sat on the armchair in the lounging room; her long legs sprawled out, her robes were already gone—all there was left was her lightly-shaded pink nightgown and a glass of red wine by her side. She sighed and drank it heavily as if she had never had any in a long, long time—that part was not true; she just had some for her evening dinner with Chloe, but the child was too young to drink wine—so she only had juice for her supper.

"Ohh… God…" She complained to herself, running her clammy hand through her auburn hair; panting softly because she could not hold it all together—the thought of the child being abused was _very _unpleasant, in her eyes, that it opened painful memories she had experienced before at very young age. She was about the age of seven when she was raped, in a middle of a war between the soldats and her people of Yugoslavia—the cause and effect was complicated—no-one did know why it started—and they never would.

She watched many people die—even her parents, her father died in the admist to protect her—as for her mother—who should have suffered the same fate—the fate for her mother turned out worse than her father. Her mother was beaten and raped brutally in front her eyes—it was so hard for her to look at, let alone for the reason she was _forced _to watch however…

"*Cough! Cough!*" Her body trembled, her nerves shook with paranoia, her hands made unnecessary movements; hurling the glass at the wall painted of a chestnut-brown, where it now shattered into small, crystallized pieces. Nervous, shivering pants came and she recollected some parts of herself—retreated to her designated seat to sink her misery into.

"Mistress Althena?" Borne entered the depressing scenery, witnessing of what was there; Althena buried her face deep into her knees, taking merely a few seconds to answer; "What do you want now? Can't you see I am busy?"

The younger candidate grimaced at her reply, rather at a disappointed state—feeling mostly disgusted, yet she held some compassion and consideration for what had happened earlier last night, Borne encountered a chair that was nearest Althena; alongside the wine. She closed her eyes and heaved a stressed sigh, walking over to the chair and sat there. She reached over for a second glass and poured some of the wine; twirling it and sniffing it to make sure it was edible to drink—so that she won't taste anything bitter afterward.

"It is about the child, Althena." She replied, while taking a sip carefully, scanning her next motive at the corner of her eye; Althena complied by slowly peeking through her oddly self-embrace; letting her legs slide down, her feet touching the carpet. She looked over her shoulder, her expression miserable, and her eyes red-rimmed from the streaking of tears, also of constant irritation underneath them. She sniffled, rubbing the dried ones out of her rims by running it over with the patch of her thumb. "Yeah? What of him?" Borne paused after her second sip, chewing her lower lip cautiously, her eyebrows creased—her fingers drummed on the arm of the chair, shaking her head. There was awkward silence on the subject.

Althena noticed her peculiar way of not answering, she began to grow weary and impatient, "Well? Is it a boy or not?!" She snapped, hitting the table with her fist. Borne, however, stood her ground, whilst glaring at Althena, her voice formed into a strained growl of frustration, "I am not accurately sure _Althena_. The child's…" Borne paused thoughtfully at her sentence, trying to voice of an appropriate term for the child's specific gender… She didn't bathed or clothed the child, Marenne, her faithful companion and long-term partner, did those things. While that occurred, Marenne said nothing to Borne after the care-taking for the child and merely responded with a sincere smile, "The child's cleansed, dearest Borne."

As she thought back to the memory, she shook her head again, as she sipped her wine significantly, replying after setting the half-empty wine glass on the small coffee table.

"Like I said… That's something you need to find out for yourself… now… the child's waiting for you. Come, I will show you where it is…" She murmured, standing up straight from her idle posture, waiting for Althena to comply, as though, Althena feels reluctant on able to move freely from her armchair.

Borne witnessed her mistress's reluctant on able to do so and held back her words, she felt the situation that had them was absolutely unexpected, so much that they wouldn't know what to do with another child that would enter their lives. The words she had said just now, she assumed that they were inappropriate and disrespectful towards Althena, whom seeing a child that looked so horribly beaten, cause the greatest pain and emotional impact on herself. The younger nun sighed, glancing at the taller woman with the most sympathetic look she could display upon her face. "I am sorry, Althena…" She said, bowing to show some respect towards the elder. "Perhaps… this isn't a good time—"

"N-no…" Althena objected, placing her left index finger on her temple and the right palm facing Borne—telling her in a firm, cautious manner, "I know that right now isn't a good time to see the child… but for me… I want to see the child, maybe the child could help lessen my own Hell…"

Borne stood dumbfounded.

"Is that an option? A clear one? Are you _sure _you are certain of this, Mistress?"

"Yes!" She said impatiently, though in the manner she said that word, it sounded as if she is becoming rather frustrated and angry Borne is putting her through—she knew of why, however the questions were merely of concern because of her elder's corruptive state; so she thought it wouldn't be _best_ as an idea to leave the child alone with her.

They stood in uncomfortable silence; neither of them were able to lessen the tense atmosphere, that is until Borne immediately complied with assurance, "Alright then… as you wish, Mistress. However, _promise _me not to worry the child, or make it feel any more uncomfortable than it already was, understood?"

Althena nodded in serious context, as she rose from her armchair and managed to redress herself with a rather white bathrobe. "I understand… I understand very well…" She murmured, just clearly enough so that Borne could hear it—ultimately assured by the answer, she answers her reply by saying, "Good, now, follow me; I will show you where the child is resting."

* * *

In the room where the dark-haired child lay, wasn't like Chloe's—instead, it seems more like a dungeon to sleep in—though, it wasn't in hostile sense, but the room was rather rushed to chose from how critical the child's condition was at the earlier incident; where Borne and Marenne settled it carefully on the bedding, removing any sort of dirty clothing from the wound that would make it seem gradually worse. Rest assured, as they already tended the wound with medical education; the wound was very much a knife wound, where the child's right side of the stomach was stabbed once, blood was nearly pouring out from its frantic movements of near anxiety attack, the child was on the brink of death—so it seems.

However, they managed to calm the child by shooting some sort of syringe that would help it calm down and fall right asleep. Their surgical tactics were carefully examined; cleaning out the wound of dirt and firmly bandaging it—they were careful not to make it too tight to cut off the circulation.

Althena sat on a chair, watching the child sleep with sincerity and thought; to feel a little better knowing that the child is going to able to survive—better yet… it will have a new family, and hopefully, a faithful companion for Chloe.

_This child…in retro-respect… may be fit to be a candidate of Noir…_ _The child may be strong enough to endure even __**more **__pains in this world as I want to see fit…_

The child squirmed some, opening its brown eyes to the dimmed lighting of the candle-lit brick textured room it resided in, moving with caution to examined the aspects of the unfamiliar room, then slowly to Althena's presence—it was surprisingly calm underneath that stoic, angered expression its face scrunched over. Althena, perhaps overjoyed of the child's awakening, smiled with certainty on her part.

"You are awake." She announced peacefully, while the child did not say anything but a confused stare—"How did I get here?" The child asked, looking around the room again; its head rotating and turning—not with panic—but with uncertain feeling.

The auburn-haired woman sighed sadly, her expression was no longer in the state of joy, instead, her face came to be a grim, concerned one.

"You came here."

The child's eyebrow partially rose in confusion. Althena's hands on her lap tightened their grasp on one another, there was a clear explanation, as she would say this; "You were injured and was in critical condition; I have no idea what made you come here." The child's eyes stood completely blank, with no words to say about this situation, it nodded its head.

"I see…" Its voice was an audible, neutral whisper, even it was neutral or of no feelings at all—the tears forming in its brown eyes told a different story. Althena, was once again concerned of the child's well-being, she wanted to soothe its miserable pain and to hold the child—she knew she has to restrain herself to give the child certain trust in her—however, from being and acting like a mother to the first child—she couldn't help but to have the want to comfort the second, unknown child.

With a catch stuck in her throat, she asked a vague question, "What is your name, dearest child?" The child turned and stared at her with the tears still running down its cheeks—its eyebrows creased—a strong, thin line downgraded its unbiased lips—as if offended by the question, nevertheless it answered quite unambiguously.

"My name is Kirika."

Althena was amazed, "Does it have a meaning?" She asked, getting out of her sitting area—an armchair—and walked towards the child's bedding, sitting down with a genuine smile to make the child feel welcome and assured—seeing it fit to be a non-physical contact—which in her mind, it is appropriate for now. The child blinked twice, finding the talk of conversation to be a bit odd, its voice faltered slightly, "Incense fog. That's what it means."

Althena's smile widened a little more, her hand reaching out to stroke the child's dark hair, cautious to make sure it wouldn't be much of trouble to do this once at this moment.

"That's sounds like a very lovely name… Kirika."

The child appeared shocked at the given reply, it stood still when Althena held it—the liquid eyes were still with absolute surprise from the affection the woman was giving it. "That's a wonderful name to have." Althena said with a kind, sad smile. The shorthaired child did nothing, its face scrunched again—a pout—but it was more likely the child is offended in some way that Althena could not understand.

Althena noticed of how much her affection may have gotten over the child's head, so she restrained the last ounce of smothering and babying, her hands placed themselves on her lap, modestly. "I am terribly sorry…" She said, "I have a daughter that is half your age; she likes everything I could give her." The child's eyebrow cocked in confusion.

_Why are you talking to me about this?_

"However… you are welcome to stay here if you like, Kirika. Do you have any relatives?"

The child's expression stayed the same—offended.

"I don't have anymore; they are dead." It scorned, snatching a pillow and burying its face onto the thickness of that pillow. "I don't have anyone else. Don't know where to go, don't have a house to be warm in, don't have anyone. Should as well die like my parents did." A stifled cry muffled on the pillow, it was audible to Althena—she felt hurt knowing that the child wouldn't accept her terms of affection—though, the child _barely _knew her, let alone trust her enough to let her do the things its mother used to do.

She leans forward to the child, using her hands to stroke its dark mop of hair, it shook violently and flinched, its head immediately snapped, giving her a harsh glare; it grinded its teeth tightly, the child is now angered. It moved away from Althena, the more Althena tried to comfort it, the more it angered the troubled child, it came to a point where the child is fed up with the situation—the child shoved Althena away.

"Just leave me alone…" It moaned quietly, "I don't deserve this; I don't deserve to live… I can might as well be dead…"

Althena grew stern, "Now…" She chided, grasping its hand and squeezing it lightly.

"That is _not _true…"

The child sniffed away some of its tears with the back of its hand, looking up to the elder woman, "But it is…" It was clear the child is upset—it had no idea why it lived, why it had a name of a gender it _thought _was to be wrong and not correct; depending on what it thinks the _actual _name _should _have been. As well as for the body… the body was different than the name… however, it wouldn't know anything about it until there would be a time puberty would take its time for the child—and then, _maybe_, the child will determined _whom _it should be.

Althena cradled the child in her arms—because the child did not do anything but to cry, the child wanted comfort from its trauma—and so, Althena was there to provide it a certain comfort.

"It's not true…" She whispered, stroking its hair and kissing the top of its head. "You are a unique child… no matter what you are… you are always welcome here…"


End file.
